The One Where England Gets Called a Tsundere
by DiamondDragon26
Summary: So, during this rather unproductive "World Meeting", our poor England is tormented by the other nations as they ruthlessly make fun of him for being a tsundere. France is very amused by the fact that England does not know what a tsundere is. Much laughter ensues from the other countries as they have a ball at England's expense. Much to his humiliation. Yes, it's England/France.


**Fair warning, it's been years since I have watched the full series of Hetalia and I am just recently starting to re-watch it again. I really hope that all of these characters are, well… in character XD I do not own Hetalia and this fic is for pure entertainment. I got the idea of this one shot because my partner teased me by calling me a "tsundere" which her friends also joined in tormenting me. Thus, this baby was born. Enjoy!**

"I demand you all stop calling me a tsundere at once! This is a serious meeting, and I have some very important issues to discuss with everyone. Now, you're all going to sit down and take me seriously!" Of course, the Brit's orders were in vain as the other nations, mainly France and Spain stared at him with awe and adoration, and other countries such as America and Germany tried their hardest to cover the smirks on their faces. America failed rather badly at this. "Awe, he's so similar to mi tomate!" Cooed Spain. France nodded I agreement. "Oui, mon cher is simply adorable. Such a tsundere, indeed."

"See? That! That right there! Stop calling me that!" The long, blond haired man chuckled. "Cheri, do you even know what a tsundere is?" A very grumpy nation sat in one of the chairs furthest away from the others, folded his arms and refused to look at his colleagues. "I don't have to know what it is, but it's getting on my nerves and if you keep calling me that I will NOT sleep with you tonight." In that perfect moment, the all – awesome, all – mighty Prussia entered through the doors with his most trusted sidekick, Gilbird perched on his favorite shoulder.

"Bruder, what do you make of this situation?" Asked Germany. Prussia pretend to analyze England's angry features and nodded his head. "Hmm…hmm… after hearing everyone's shouting on the way in, I must come too the conclusion that England is, in fact, a tsundere." "Why you little!" Screamed the emerald eyed country as he threw his chair in Prussia's general direction. Gilbird chirped in fright and flew across the room in order to avoid any incoming flying furniture. Also, Spain received an elbow to the ribs sincerely from Romano. "Don't think I wasn't paying attention earlier. I am not a tsundere, either."

America whistled and called for everyone to turn their attention to the chalkboard, where he began to jot down some very important information. "Rule number one about being a tsundere. EVERY tsundere denies that they are, well… a tsundere." By this point, England's face was fuming with both anger and humiliation. "I do not need to deny anything! Because I am not a tsundere!" "He said it again, da?" Chimed Russia, who looked so well composed, yet strangely threatening at the same time. America nodded. "Yup. Russia agrees. So, this meeting is adjourned and England is a tsundere. Everyone dismissed!"

That night, England and France huddled up together in their warm, cozy bed. Sheltering each other from the dark and stormy night that was just outside their bedroom window. "France? Are you awake?" Asked the stubborn country. He received a "Hmmm?" In response to his question. "What is it, Angleterre?" "Am I a tsundere?" France, now intrigued turned over on his side so that he could properly face his lover. "Of course, you are, no doubt about it." He replied with a small laugh. England now fidgeted with the bed sheets, embarrassed. "W-what does that mean, exactly?"

France smiled and shook his head, his blond locks following him any which way his head turned. "t simply means that you have a hard, crunchy shell, but you have a really sweet and gooey center." England hmphed and folded his arms against his chest. "I'm not gooey." Taking this as a golden opportunity, France leaned over to kiss his long-time lover, which took the English nation by surprise as a pink blush covered his cheeks. "And that," The Frenchman began. "Is exactly how a tsundere asked." He finished with a tease and a playful wink.

"God damn it, I need some tea." Grumbled the tsundere as he forced himself out of his comfortable bed and made his way to the kitchen. France did not take offence to this, as he was always amused by his lover's reactions. He knew this man inside and out, for hundreds of years now. And he knew that England would return in twenty minutes after drinking his favorite brew and climb right back into bed with his French partner. England always acted haughty when he was humiliated, which was also something that France found absolutely adorable.

As predicted, the emerald – eyed country returned to bed after a nice, heartwarming drink. France could see his Angleterre glancing at him awkwardly throughout the corner of his eye. Almost as though he were trying to admit something but could not gather the courage to. "F-Francis?" "Hmm, mon Cher?" "I…I-I love you. You stupid frog." Francis could not contain his laughter any longer. "I love you, too. Arthur. Nothing is ever going to change that." The long-haired man opened his arms to allow England to lay on his chest, and the other man happily gave in to his desires."

"But mark my words." Said Arthur. "If you tell anyone about this, I will kill you. Very slowly." With that threat, he leaned in closer to kiss Francis. The Frenchman pretended to pout. "Oh, but I love it when you're so vulnerable. It's so… delectable and makes me excited every time." He said as he reached over to bite the tip of England's ear. The cropped haired nation moaned with pleasure, and his once stone-cold face melted in the most wanton expression that made his lover as hard as a rock. "Right here?" France asked while he purred into his partner's ear.

This caused Arthur to jump with shock, his leg shaking along with his now semi – hard member. "God, please. Fuck me, you filthy bastard." France chuckled and his eyes sparkled with delight. "Such things you say. Maybe I need to have a chat with Spain about your language, along with Romano's." The English nation whimpered in response. Francis shrugged his shoulders. "I'm afraid I'm not quite sure what you want, exactly." He tormented with a hidden smirk on his red lips. "You need to tell me what you want, otherwise I might have to leave you…. just like this." "PLEASE FUCK ME UP THE ASS, YOU GIT!"


End file.
